To destroy the World, and build it a new
by sicsouless
Summary: The war never ended with the death of Voldemort. Nineteen years of fighting from the shadows and Harrys had enough.
1. The unmaking

Chapter one: The unmaking

Black hair whispered with the wind, glasses glinting in the starlight. A long white tube sat next to the man who sat unnaturally still. Papers crinkling in the wind held down by a soft looking white stone, shaped as a perfect orb. Green eyes squinted as the hand marred by "I will not tell lies", moved a long silver and red quill smoothly across parchment, scratching in the deep moonless night. A soft murmur escaping his lips, dreams of what had been floating through his mind. He concentrated on his more than detailed notes. "It must be perfect, there is no room for errors." He sighed. Desperation had brought him to this, as always his desire to save those around him filled his being, he knew this was the only way, and yet he wished it wasn't so. Nineteen years ago he had felled his foe, and yet the ghost of he-who-shall-not-be-named hung over his head as it did then. The war all had thought ended, was instead fought in the shadows. The darkest of nights brought mornings filled with horrors, The Death Eaters never changed.

Nineteen years he had waited for this particular evening, an evening that came only once every thousand or so years, when the planets aligned with the Sirius constellation. A once in a life time chance, the only chance he had left. He wanted so bad to just roll over, to forget existence to explode and then fade like a dying star. The pain of being alone, long sense abandoned by those he loved, as they faded as he wished he could. The twins both gone, Fred during the battle of Hogwarts, George two years later in the middle of the night, his shop burnt down around him, the fire started by Malfoy. So much hate, so much pain, so much depression, the sadness overwhelming. He had made his choice however, this long forgotten work of pure art, this beautiful ritual that no one would ever witness in its entirety. Once the ritual started it couldn't be stopped, those who were around to see it, they wouldn't know, for with everything else, they would be unmade. A ritual to change the past, to prevent the future, it unmade the universe. It consumed all that came after the intended day. He would be the only one to carry this pain, these memories of a hopeless future.

Sighing softly to himself as he slowly stood his hair falling long past his knees, tied loosely in a messy tail. A silvery cloak shifting with the wind, drifting like gossamer strands weightless, covering his long black robes blood red piping along the seams. Sharp killing curse green eyes scoured the runic pentagram he had painstakingly drawn with the blood of his enemies, mixed together with the bones of his family and friends. At the apex of each point a black, green, and white candle sat, unlit and waiting for his incantations to begin. Checking his charts one last time, he reached a ring covered hand in to his pocket, pulling from within a small trunk which he placed upon the ground. Next he placed his hands in to his sleeves each coming out grasping a wand. The wand in his right hand, the first wand he'd ever owned, the wand in his left, a curse he could never let go. He had tried on several occasions to dispose of it, placing it back in its previous master's tomb. He had snapped in on several occasions leaving its broken parts carelessly strewn about. Before he had finally accepted that he was its chosen, he had set fire to it, he had used the darkest spell he knew, Fiendfyre. He held the curse for over twenty minutes letting the flames of hell wash over it, and when it was all said and done, it looked as it had the first time he saw it, held it, cursed it.

He tapped the trunk with his wand, holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches. The trunk sprang to full size, and then popped open to the second compartment. With a silent swish and flic of the cursed wand, three vials filled with different substances shot forth like a bullet from a gun, stopping inches from his face. One filled with a substance so black it seemed to suck the night inside, another so white it seemed to shine as if it were the sun, and the last, the most difficult to find, a clear liquid that seemed if it didn't exist at all. The first seemed to radiate malicious hate from within, pure refined dementors' essence, distilled and filtered for three years. The second radiated pure love, and joy, blood tears of a unicorn harvested on the autumn equinox, under a blood moon. The last gave no feeling, gave no scent, gave no choice, bottled and distilled down to liquid, last breaths of the dying. In to the center of his pentagram he floated these three, contradictions of each other.

A sharp crack summoned his notice, it was time to begin, time to make a new world, to burn the old to ashes as if it had never been. He begins the ritual by flicking both wands at each point, lighting the three candles, each with a violently orange flame. His mouth open he started to sing, an ancient language long forgotten, he stepped in to the center of his runes. His song at times low and sad, others loud and angry, and the shadows begin to dance as he begins to sway. The music changing tempo, changing tone, changing tune, the world seemed to twist upon itself, as if it was being slowly sucked in to the center with him, as if he was the maestro, conducting a mass exodus from this plane. The screams begin as he started his second verse, the world around him crying that it had come to this. The shadows sped towards him, the dementors essence pulling its due, then the stars in the sky begin to swirl about caught in the maelstrom of his spell, sucked to the blood tears. When the last shadow had been slurped up, the vial begins to glow strangely blue. The stars falling around him, he never ceased his movements, the sweat glistening in the raven strands of his blowing hair. The maelstrom sped to consume all the stars in the sky, and then the tears had all run dry, glowing an otherworldly golden hue. And last all that was left, him and his circle of runes, all alone in the seemingly endless forever of nothing, the vial of breaths collected its due. As the last note of his song sprang past his lips, the vials clashed together and the world, the universe, and Harry potter was born anew.


	2. Where it all went wrong

Chapter two: Where it all went wrong

Many believe that the universe began with a bang, The Big Bang Muggle scientists called it. For Harry Potter saying this is incorrect was like saying the sun was hot. The universe for Harry Potter started with a vast swirling of lights, dizziness and a horrible headache. His head felt like it had been set on fire, smashed with a ten pound sledge hammer, and then run over by a Mac truck doing seventy five. The sheer magnitude of his headache caused his nose to gush blood, and his eyes to ooze tears of sheer pain. So desperate was he for some relief that he welcomed his Uncles fist to his head. The scream he had emitted upon re-emergence in to reality scared his Aunt and Uncle so much that the knee jerk reaction of hitting first and asking second came in to play. While his Aunt and Uncle weren't necessarily kind people to Harry, or anyone not named Dudley or Marge, even they couldn't stand to see blood gushing from his nose like a waterfall. Immediately after realizing that this is indeed what was happening, they quickly picked him up placed him on a trash bag, which was on top of a towel, which was over the top of the backseat in Vernon's company car. They rushed as fast as they could to the local hospital where Harry was admitted. For two days the Doctors and Nurses could find nothing wrong with him, save that his brain was swollen. When asked what he was doing before this happened, Petunia informed the Doctor that harry had been sitting at the table for a quick lunch before going back out to weed the garden. This puzzled the Doctors as they could find no trauma to his head, he simply shouldn't have been bleeding and screaming as he was. Unnoticed by Petunia and Vernon were the changes to Harrys stature and muscle mass. Of course the sheer amount of time they had spent ignoring his very existence over the past three years it shouldn't have come as a surprise.

Thirty two days after being admitted to the hospital Harry shot up with a gasp, startling the nurse. "Oh God!" she shrieked. Looking around he noticed that everything was a blurry sterilized white, with the off smell of disinfectants, something he hadn't smelled in years. Ignoring the now hyperventilating Nurse and the Doctors that had rushed in to his room in response to the nurses scream, he searched out his glasses. One of the Doctors noticing this quickly handed them to him; placing them on his face he finally took notice of the commotion in his room.

Quietly he asked the doctor who handed him his glasses "where am I? I know I'm in a hospital, but which one? And if it is not too much trouble, could I have your name sir?"

The doctor looking bemused introduced himself, "I am Doctor Cetti, Director of general medicine. You are currently in the coma ward of East Surrey hospital. I hope that answers your questions sufficiently, if you don't mind I have a few of my own."

Harry looked puzzled at this point but figured what could it hurt? "Ask away Doc. I'll answer your questions to the best of my ability, but could you answer a few more of mine first?"

The suddenly chuckling Doctor replied, "how about an even exchange then? I'll ask one and you answer, then you ask one and I will answer. First question, do you know your name?"

Harry having been through these questions a few times in his life (cough more than a few) decided to get them out of the way first. "Let me see," Harry mumbled "My name is Harry James Potter, I am fourteen years old, and the date is August 10th 1994. You are currently clutching a clip board with one hand, and the other is in your pocket, so I have no idea how many fingers you are holding up."

Doctor Cetti looked shocked at his answer, the reason being it was entirely correct, and most patents who had been in a comma were off quite a few days. That Harry knew the date was amazing. "Astounding!" the doctor exclaimed. "Tell me young man how is that you know the exact date when you've been in a comma for thirty two days?" Harrys eyes widened, he was shocked to learn that he had been in a comma for that long, although it would explain why he felt like some one's personal pincushion. At least this time they hadn't put in a breathing tube he thought.

Looking at the Doctor who had been patiently waiting for his answer, he replied "to be honest I took a guess?" This answer of course did not satisfy the Doctor who looked at him like a parent who catches their kid with their hand in the cookie jar just before dinner.

"Young man, Harry" he said catching Harrys scathing look "I may look like I just got off the train from Stupid Ville, but I assure you I did not. While I may not have any children of my own, I can certainly tell when one is lying to me." Harry sighed, and opened his mouth to try a different answer, when the Doctor cut him off "It's not important enough to worry about or get in to a confrontation about Harry, in the future if you don't know the answer or don't want to answer just say so. There is no reason to run around telling each other lies. Neither of us has the time, and I assuredly don't have the patience for it. I'm a Doctor after all, and while there might be occasional inter house politics I am not a politician. Now since you have answered the questions I was about to ask you, you may ask your questions of me."

Harry closed his eyes and sighed, "Doctor, you've answered my first question by telling me how long I've been here already. I suppose I am curious as to what happened, seeing as how the last thing I remember is bright lights swirling about in a manner that made me dizzy and then pain sheer unadulterated pain, and then the sheer relief of blackness. How long do I have to stay, and who brought me would be my last questions."

"Since we can find nothing wrong with you, already having given you a blood transfusion due to the sheer amount of blood you lost, it was quite some nose bleed you had, we will keep you tonight and if you're strong enough we will let you go tomorrow. We have kept your muscles from atrophy as best we could, however you must know that you will still be weak and require some treatment. Don't worry though we have a physical routine you can use at home to get the strength back to your muscles. It shouldn't be near as bad as it could be if you weren't treated to prevent it. Luckily for you modern medicine has adapted to this and this hospital has a treatment plan in place to prevent such from occurring. Now as to who brought you in, it was you're Aunt and Uncle. They should be by in a few hours; one of the nurses went out to call them to let them know you've woken."

"Thank you Doctor for answering all my questions and helping me to understand what is going to happen." Harry replied. "If you don't mind I suddenly feel a bit sleepy." The Doctor nodded, wrote something down on his clip board and walked towards the door.

"If you find yourself in pain don't hesitate to tell someone, before you go back to sleep do try to eat something, solid food will do you some good. I'll be by later on to check on you, if you're not awake don't worry, I will speak you you tomorrow." With that the Doctor left the room after getting a promise to eat from Harry.

AN: completly random, but Ive just had my first cup of true coffee in three days, none of that instant crap. TRUE REAL COFFEE.. god I love coffee.. my sister laughed at me cause I cuddled the coffee can on the way home.


End file.
